


Rude Boy

by catholicschoolgirl



Series: The Loveeee Song Series [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Rihanna (Musician)
Genre: Crack, Daddy Kink, F/M, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catholicschoolgirl/pseuds/catholicschoolgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rihanna pegs Harry after the Grammy's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rude Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handcversbruise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handcversbruise/gifts).



> Dedicated once more to Frida, who demanded more Riharry since I complained that I was bored. I'll get to the Drake/Taylor request later. 
> 
> Also blah blah this is all untrue, do not break the fourth wall, etc.

Rihanna was crushingly bored. Her tits felt like they were being mangled in her dress, the boning of which shoved her chest up damn near to her chin and cut into the thin skin over her ribs. Fuck if she didn't look good, though, long, sleek and sexy. Her Louboutins were similarly uncomfortable, and she was regretting letting herself get talked out of the relatively simple and far more comfortable gold Giuseppe Zanotti pumps she had been leaning towards, but at least she had a really good seat this year and had no intentions of standing up for any reason, particularly not to mingle with a bunch of people she didn't give a fuck about, win any awards, or dance to the weak ass lineup, unlike that annoying perpetual tween Taylor Swift, who was shimmying along to every fucking performance a few seats down. Sighing, Rihanna resisted the urge to pull out her cell phone and livetweet her way through the rest of the ceremony, instead taking a moment to rub her temple and send up a small prayer to God, Jesus, and Mariah Carey for all of this to end soon. All she could think about was going to the afterparty later, throwing back a Jameson and ginger, and rolling a fat blunt while she kicked off her shoes and used them to club all of the clingy exes that were in attendance. It was an amazing fantasy.

Rihanna had completely tuned out, mouth salivating at the thought of alcohol, when the ceremony went to commercial after another performance that Rihanna did not give a fuck about. Rihanna leaned back in her seat to throw another annoyed glance at Melissa, who shrugged and continued scrolling through Instagram. Rihanna was so busy being miffed that she didn't even realize that Harry Styles had come to stand in front of her.

“Oh, what's up?” Rihanna asked, her mood improving considerably just looking at Harry. He was dressed smartly, wearing a blue Burberry suit, a pair of classic brown Salvatore Ferragamo loafers, and a raggedy friendship bracelet that looked like it was made by a small child, or Harry himself. His hair was slightly shorter than the last time Rihanna had seen him, in passing at some charity thing, but Rihanna still wanted to run her fingers through it and pull on the soft curls.

Rihanna had a soft spot for Harry, one that turned into a large problem sometime around the VMA's. She could basically pinpoint the exact moment – turning around and seeing Harry cautiously eating an orange in the row behind her, watching him frown as he ran long fingers underneath the peel, thinking that the sight was endearing, even a little arousing, instead of really fucking weird. Later, after photographers had snapped a handful of pictures of them together, Rihanna had invited – well, told him, really – to come back to her hotel, and they had a good time sucking on each others' naughty bits, before the blunt caught up with her and she basically fell out without getting a good dicking, which was a huge shame because his cock was massive and thick and wow, Rihanna was getting hot just remembering it all even though it seemed that Harry was talking to her, and she hadn't heard a single word.

“Huh?” Rihanna asked and Melissa snorted next to her. Rihanna slapped her upside the head without even turning to look, and smiled sweetly at Harry. “Sorry, love, zoned out a bit there. This ceremony is boring as fuck.”

“I've been quite amused,” Harry said, his eyes darting briefly across the room, probably to wherever Taylor Swift was writing mean, vague things in her fucking diary, Rihanna had no time for that junior high bullshit.

“You'd be much more amused if you were fucking me,” Rihanna retorted, ignoring the surprised look on Frank Ocean's face, where he was sitting to Rihanna's left. “You coming to my hotel room again?”

“You inviting me?” Harry asked as he smirked and ran a finger through his hair before scowling a bit at the glunks of product that came off on his fingers.

“Course I am, you owe me.”

“Actually, you owe me,” Harry answered. “You're the one who fell asleep. I should be a bit offended by that, really.”

“Details,” Rihanna said, waving her hand as the ceremony started back up again. Rihanna sighed and cursed, there had to be at least two more hours before this shit ended. “You know the drill, have your people call my people, and don't wear any underwear.”

Harry was full on grinning when he turned to make his way back to his seat. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

 

Later, when Harry was sitting naked on the bed in Rihanna's hotel room and eating a banana, he asked, “So do I call you 'Rihanna' or 'Robyn'?”

“Call me 'Daddy,'” Rihanna responded, grinning triumphantly as she finally found her strap-on and dildo and slammed them both next to Harry on the bed.

“Huh,” Harry asked, chewing slowly and glancing at the hardware placed next to him. “I haven't had anyone ask to peg me so early on. Usually we get to at least the fourth hookup.”

Rihanna shrugged. “Can't wait, love. Need to make you cry with my cock.”

Harry nodded and finished off his banana, throwing the peel into a wastebasket across the room. “You know what you're doing?”

Rihanna scoffed, turning back toward her luggage to look for lube. “Harry, I've hooked up with both Drake and Rocky. C'mon now.”

“Well, I can't just assume,” Harry replied, walking off the bed and coming to stand behind Rihanna, running his fingers along her arms and laying his face on her shoulder. “Can I tell Zayn that you pegged Drake?”

Rihanna hummed a bit noncommittally and turned, pressing her body against Harry's and kissing him softly on the lips. “You sure are easy-going about all of this. I was half-kidding, you know.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow, and took Rihanna's hand, pressing it to his half-hard cock. “There are far worse things. And I'm pretty sure I can't think of anything hotter than you fucking me ragged.”

“You flatter me, Styles,” Rihanna purred, bringing her hand back to her mouth. She spit into her palm and gave Harry a quick pull, flicking her finger against his slit on the upstroke. “Now get on the fucking bed. Face down, ass up, that's the way I like to fuck.”

Harry snickered, biting down on his lip before humming, “Yes, _Daddy_ ,” and sauntering back to the bed.

Rihanna hadn't been lying when she said that she did this before, but usually it did take far more cajoling and a few illegal substances. But Harry was calm, and clearly he had done this before. He watched with hungry eyes as Rihanna removed what little clothing she was still wearing at this point – basically only a pair of panties that she had damn near soaked through – and made her way to the bed, running her fingers from Harry's ankles to his hips, following the path of her hands with her mouth, kissing, biting, sucking. She planted a few solid slaps to Harry's ass, admiring the pink handprints she left behind, before kneading the skin there.

“Did you shower before you got here?” Rihanna asked, pushing her hair away from her face and peppering kisses along the knobs of Harry's spine.

“'Course,” Harry breathed.

“Good,” Rihanna said, her voice low with arousal. “Can I eat you out?” Harry moaned and reached down to his dick, but Rihanna swatted his hand away. “Not yet, not until I've got my dick in you,” she warned, her lips still along Harry's spine, but this time she kissed her way down, not stopping at Harry's hips but moving further, not stopping until she heard Harry's quick intake of breath and had coated him with her tongue. She had to stop when she realized that she had forgotten her lube over in her LV luggage, but she came back, popped the cap and dribbled a fair amount of the strawberry scented lubrication over her fingers, slowly one in alongside her tongue, running her other hand soothingly up the back of Harry's muscular thighs and then along his hip bone.

By the time Rihanna finally put on the strap-on, secured the dildo firmly in place, rolled on a condom, slathered it with lube, and pushed into Harry, they were both bathed in sweat, Rihanna's fingers slick where they gripped at Harry's hips. She was still for a moment, waiting for Harry to adjust. His cock had gone a bit soft as she fucked into him, so Rihanna pulled back a bit, Harry wincing a little, and laid her chest against his back to reach around him and stroke him through the pain.

“Grab the pillow,” Rihanna suggested, and Harry did, reaching blindly up the bed and grabbing a soft pillow. Harry let his arms rest by basically face planting into it.

“Hmm, think I'm ready,” Harry murmured, his voice deep and impossibly slow, but Rihanna stayed still a minute longer, until Harry whined impatiently and began pushing himself back against her, fucking himself onto the strap-on.

Rihanna smirked, digging her slippery fingers once more into Harry's hips and watching where the dildo stretched him open, her mouth falling open at the sight. “Yeah, fuck yourself onto this cock,” she said, reveling at how well her day turned out now that she had Harry fucking himself onto her store bought dick, his hesitant movements becoming bolder and his dick leaking deliciously against the expensive comforter. Rihanna had never been so excited to have a young, tanned body underneath her, a man who was eagerly splitting himself open and slowly coming undone by a dildo, even though Rihanna had been mean mugging everyone earlier today and hadn't won shit this year at the Grammy's, even though he easily could've picked his ex, a pretty girl who had somehow managed to pick up a ton of awards even though she was an annoying twat, even though he could be pitching a fit that Rihanna was basically just watching, not even fucking into Harry properly at this point, letting him do all the work, letting the fabric of the strap on rub against her, the friction so sweet that it was hard for her to not just roll her eyes back and let a quiet orgasm strike her.

Rihanna was suddenly hit with the intensity of how much she loved her life, so she said it, and she might've yelled that she loved Harry, too, because she did in this moment, and she showed it by suddenly grabbing the back of Harry's neck and letting him have it.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing porn is hard. I tried.
> 
> Also, I actually love Taylor Swift and would pay good money to see Harry/Taylor/Rihanna.


End file.
